


The Liars Who Spoke Our Names

by itsnotmyfault



Series: Dream SMP Oneshots [4]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Malnipulation (Past), Other, Sibling Bonding, Spoilers for 12-27 Stream, like. a lot of them, questioning your place in the world, whether or not they are family is up to interpertation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:54:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28372725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsnotmyfault/pseuds/itsnotmyfault
Summary: Techno and Tommy work through some emotions.
Relationships: Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: Dream SMP Oneshots [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2078505
Comments: 12
Kudos: 428





	The Liars Who Spoke Our Names

**Author's Note:**

> DREAM SMP ANGST BABBBBYY
> 
> i should really work on the next chapter of cold winds huh
> 
> oh well
> 
> Hope you enjoy this work! As always feel free to leave kudos and comments below!

Tommy’s hands shake the whole trip down to his room. 

By the time he makes it down to his bed, he’s sure he’s vibrating to the point where he’ll phase straight through it. He shoves his face into the pillow, doing his best to shut out the nothing of the soundscape around him. 

What was he supposed to feel now? 

When he was with Tubbo, things made sense. When he was with Dream, things made less sense, but he didn’t have the strength to question it. And now that he’s with Techno… 

He punches the wall next to him. It doesn’t do anything but bruise his fist. 

How is he supposed to feel? About Tubbo? About Dream? 

They’ve both done bad things to him. They’ve both used him. They’ve both hurt him in so many goddamn ways-

And yet Tommy loved them both, all the same. 

Maybe he should just stop caring about people. He didn’t care for Techno. Maybe that’s why their relationship was working so well. There’s no feelings involved with it. It’s just business. 

(Was it business when Techno stepped in front of him, stopping Dream from hurting him even more? When he told him what Dream had done to him? When he felt genuine horror at the idea of Techno being executed?) 

He screamed into the pillow. None of this was simple anymore. Why couldn’t it be simple? It was simple with Wilbur-

Nope, nope, nope. Not opening that can of worms. 

Wilbur made his head hurt more than Dream, and that was saying something. Even though he  _ knew  _ Wilbur was a bad person, that Wilbur had hurt L’manberg just as much as he made it better. Wilbur was so much and so little at the same time that it stung and dug until he felt like tearing his skin apart just to get rid of it. 

Dream and Wilbur were similar, in many ways. Both gave up on everyone else. Both hurt him. Both helped him. Both used him. 

If Wilbur was a bad guy, Dream was a bad guy too, right?

_ ‘No shit, Sherlock,’  _ Tommy thought to himself. Dream had just threatened to burn his disc if Techno hadn’t stepped in. What kind of friend would do that? 

(What was a friend? What did it mean to care? Did Tommy care about anyone?)

(Did anyone care about Tommy?) 

Tommy had so many questions, and never any answers. Maybe he never would. Maybe no one cared. 

Why didn’t that thought hurt as much as it should’ve?

(Did he always know, deep down?) 

Ranboo visited him out of pity. Techno took him in out of necessity. Dream just played with his feelings because he was bored. Tubbo threw him away like a cheap toy. 

(No one loved him. No one loved him.) 

(That made things easier, didn’t it?) 

He felt heavy. Every limb was made of lead. His head hurt like he had just hit it against the wall and not his fist. Maybe he did. That would explain the dent. 

At the same time, he felt weightless. Blank. No thoughts, no values, no love, no trust. A person whose memories had just been wiped, ready for a new experience. There was nothing in his chest, his head, nothing that could pin him to the ground, give him a concrete answer. 

At some point in time, he had sat up from his bed. The pillow was wet with tears. They had to be his, but Tommy didn’t remember crying. Tommy didn’t remember sitting up either. 

He stared down at his hands, rough and calloused and scarred. A burn on his right hand he got from the Final Control Room. A blotch of black when Techno unleashed the withers. A bruise from when Dream had grabbed him and yanked him off the obsidian wall. 

Did they matter? Did any of his sacrifices matter? 

Did he matter? 

_ (It’s never my time to die.)  _

_ (Do you think he thinks of you as his best friend?)  _

_ (Why can’t we be the bad guys, Tommy?)  _

_ (You’re selfish TommyInnit! That’s all you are!)  _

“-home, Tommy!” 

He jumped out of his trance, scrambling up the ladder like a squirrel. He pulled himself out of his room into the first basement floor, spotting Techno emptying his inventory into the chests. 

“Hey big man,” he said with a noticeable lack of energy. 

“Hello, Tommy,” the pink haired man said back. 

“How’s the dogs?” 

Techno shrugged. “They’re doin’ fine. Though they were confused as to why you weren’t there.” 

Tommy tilted his head, forcing a smirk. “Then that proves they like me more than you, right?”

Techno rolls his eyes. “Whatever. I’ll make some steak and carrot stew. You coming?”

He pouts. “That’s all we’ve been eating for the past week!” 

“Unless you have some better food, that’s what we’re gonna keep on eating.” 

Tommy stuck his tongue out as he followed him to the main floor. Techno had already shed his armor, getting out a pot from the cabinet and an old wooden spoon from another. Tommy awkwardly sat down on the box, watching in mild interest as Techno began to chop the ingredients. 

“So,” Tommy started. “Do you… uhhhhh…”

Techno stops chopping for a second, pushing the carrots into the pot. “Do I…?”

“Do you care about anyone?” 

An even more awkward pause filled the room. 

“...Yeah. Phil. He hasn’t used me.” 

“You keep on sayin’ about how people ‘used you’ and shit. What do you even mean?” 

The chopping stops for a second. “Don’t act like you don’t know.” 

“I really don’t Techno, stop acting so melodramatic-”

“You did.” 

“...What?” 

The chopping begins again, slower and more methodical. “You, and Wilbur, and Tubbo, and Nikki, and whoever else was a part of Pogtopia. You used me. The only reason I was brought here was because you-you-”

He stops again, shoving more carrots into the pot. “You didn’t care for my opinions.” 

“That’s a bit much, Techno-”

“But you didn’t!” Techno turns around, his usual golden eyes turning significantly darker. The knife glints with light from the setting sun. “You knew I was an anarchist Tommy! That was literally the first thing I told you! But no! You kept me around because you thought I could kill anyone you didn’t like. That’s the reason Wilbur kept me around. That’s the fucking reason anyone keeps me around.” 

He turns back, braid swinging behind him. “I was stupid. I thought you actually  _ liked  _ me. I thought someone on this goddamn server actually cared about my fucking well being. But no. I was just a weapon. That’s all I ever am to everyone. A stick to wield to get people to shut up.” 

His breathing is sped up, chest rising up and down as he grips the cutting board. Tommy has curled up against the wall, hand reaching for the nearest stick in some form of self defense. Techno takes a deep breath, and starts chopping again. 

“....I’m sorry, Techno.” 

He stops again, turning just enough so he can see a sliver of his darkened eye. “...Sorry doesn’t fix it, Tommy.” 

“It shouldn’t,” he agreed, pulling his knees closer to his chest. “Sorry doesn’t fix you blowing up L’manberg either.” 

He pauses to think about it even more. “We’ve… we’ve done horrible things to each other, haven’t we?” 

“....Yeah.” 

“And yet…. You still care about me.” 

Techno spun around. “Tommy, we’re just-”

“Don’t you dare fucking lie to me. You could’ve turned me into Dream, let him take me back and get a lot of trouble off your hands. You could’ve said that that was the favor and no longer be in debt to Dream. You didn’t have to stand and face the fucking god and tell him that wasn’t gonna happen. And yet you did.” 

“Tommy…” 

He put his face in his hands. “And it’s so fucking stupid because I care about you to.” 

“What?” 

“When you talked about being executed…. I was scared. Really scared. I thought of Tubbo’s execution and all I saw was you and it scared me. You’re… you’ve treated me better than Dream.” 

“That’s not very high praise, Tommy.” 

He let out a choked laugh and rubbed some tears away. “Yeah, yeah, I know. But you do. And you listened to me cry about him and whine about him and you sat there like it was nothing. And if I lost you I think I’d fucking snap.” 

He looks back up at Techno, slowly getting up from his box. “I don’t know how we’re going to figure this stupid shit out. I don’t know what our next move is either. This has just been so much and I...I… we’re more than just temporary allies, aren’t we? We care about each other, even if we don’t want to admit it.” 

Techno looks back at the boiling pot. “This was a lot easier when Wilbur was in charge.” 

“Yeah… It was.” 

There’s a shuffle of movement that Tommy can’t look at because he’s too busy wiping his eyes until there’s arms around his back and his head is pushed into something warm. 

Techno’s hugging him, he realizes. 

“I thought you didn’t like being touched,” he says because he really can’t muster anything else. 

“And I thought you did. So shut up and take this physical comfort or else.” 

They stood there for a couple minutes, letting the world pass around them, until Techno finally spoke up. 

“Do… Do you actually care about me?” 

Tommy blinked. “Yeah…? That’s what I just said, dumbass.” 

Techno let go of him, turning back to the boiling pot. “No need to be rude ‘bout it. Just… Thank you. For saying that.” 

Tommy stood there awkwardly for a few seconds. “No problem, big man. I’m going to head downstairs and organize my chests or something.” 

“M’kay.” 

And Tommy went back down to his room, feeling significantly better than when he came out. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> techno: do you actually care about me?
> 
> tommy: yea lmao 
> 
> techno: oh ok 
> 
> techno interally: *full on sobbing*


End file.
